


Everlasting

by roxyryoko



Series: Drabbles in the Dark [22]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff and more fluff, Garland Moon, Post canon, big sister hilda, romantic confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyryoko/pseuds/roxyryoko
Summary: Lysithea had never been one to find much point in the frivolity of the Garland Moon tradition, but now with her Crests removed and the prospect of a future ahead of her, she‘s determined to proclaim her feelings to Linhardt. Luckily, Hilda arrived just in time to help.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Lysithea von Ordelia, Linhardt von Hevring/Lysithea von Ordelia
Series: Drabbles in the Dark [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590193
Comments: 18
Kudos: 61
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charbon_et_eau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charbon_et_eau/gifts).



> Happy Birthday charbon_et_eau! Thank you for all your wonderful comments and your beautiful artworks of these two ships!
> 
> This fic doubles for the Felannie server drabble prompt “future” and Lysihardt week!

Tucked away in bed, Lysithea yelped as she pricked her finger for the third time that afternoon. Jerking her hand away, the incomplete fabric rose dropped onto her lap, needle and thread quickly following suit. A droplet of crimson liquid oozed out of the small wound and she instinctively pressed her finger between pursed lips to blot the blood with her tongue.

She scowled. The repetition of these little accidents was shamefully childish, and despite her current predicament temporarily forcing her to heavily rely on others, a child she was not.

Lounged comfortably at the bay window, Hilda glanced up from her own project, concern wrinkling her brows.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help with that?” she asked as she returned her attention to the nearly complete fresh-cut rose crown in her hands. “It’d be nice to be done with these before the boys return. Trying to stall Caspar is like trying to stall a storm. He’s pretty excited, you know.”

Lysithea padded her tongue against her fingertip instead of immediately answering, much too entranced by the grace and ease in which Hilda worked. Taking in every motion, Lysithea watched Hilda lace the stem of a pink anemone between two white roses, looping it into a knot and securing it delicately around the already interwoven stalks. Adorned with personal flare in lieu of pure tradition Hilda’s garland crown was just as resplendent and immaculate as Lysithea would expect from her elegant friend. Throughout the wreath, pink blossoms and baby breathes lay nestled between meticulously spaced white roses with a few protruding from the edges in appealing patterns.

For someone who preferred to shove her responsibilities off on anyone gullible enough to become ensnarled by her charms, Hilda could create remarkable works of art when she mustered the conviction. Lysithea knew that her friend was much more observant and charitable than the flippant and helpless act she performed so well. She’d proven that fact many times before and most stalwartly again during her short respite at the Ordelia manor. The visit had been unexpected— Hilda and Caspar had simply meandered through the territory on their escapade around the world—but the company of a dear friend after enduring such a trying surgical procedural lifted Lysithea’s spirits considerably.

With a final suck, Lysithea plucked her injured finger from her lips and gathered up the discarded fabric rose. She carefully rewound the spiral and smoothed the wrinkles out before returning to task with needle and thread.

“I’m fully capable of completing this myself,” she said, masking her chagrin behind a sharp lilt.

With the aid of a thimble and more effort needed than initially perceived, Lysithea pushed the needle through the thick fabric. The thread knotted prematurely, creating an unsightly double loop.

Lysithea frowned, adding, “Your instructions were quite straightforward. It’s just a rather…tedious ordeal.”

As Lysithea picked at the threads in an attempt to release the stubborn knot, Hilda’s eyes flickered her way yet again, pitying the struggle. “Suit yourself. No skin off my back. But it would’ve been a lot easier if you used real roses like I am.”

Lysithea sighed, frustrated both with sewing and Hilda’s comment. Her companion had a valid point. The task of creating over a dozen fabric roses not only wore her thin but required a considerable amount of time that ideally should had been spent resting—at least that’s what Linhardt and Professor Hannelman had prescribed. Yet, Lysithea was never one to simply idle about and after nearly a month of bed rest, a purposeful activity and Hilda’s wanderlust-filled chatter provided much needed stimulation. In Lysithea’s eyes, this craft wasted no effort and none of her time.

Lysithea shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position against the propped pillows. “You are well aware of my grievances against killing nature,” she said once she had nestled back down.

Predictably, her discomfort did not subside. Nothing had ceased the nervous boil in her stomach since she had started this project. “And I’d like to think Linhardt would grasp the nuance behind using a more enduring material.”

Immediately, heat rose to her cheeks at the mere thought of the scholar and the symbolism behind the craft in her hands. In days past she deemed such frivolous exchanges and festivities completely and utterly pointless. After all, it seemed cruel to romantically entangle another in her truncated life. Yet now, she could yearn for besotted smiles and tender touches without an accompanied guilt. Dreams of requited love and companionship could become reality.

Her voice wavered with her anxieties as she continued, “I really hope he accepts. I worry he’ll misinterpret my feelings as mere friendship.”

Hilda picked up another anemone from the pile atop the windowsill and briefly evaluated its position between two particular roses. Once satisfied, she offered Lysithea a skeptical look.

“Easy to avoid that. Just say ‘I’m in love with you’ when you give it to him. Be candid. Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve kept your feelings a secret from him all this time. Linhardt could have all ready started courting you. Heck, the two of you could have been married by now!”

Lysithea paused her stitching and scoffed, “That’s rich, coming from you. You never were one to be so blunt.”

Hilda’s eyes widened in surprise, but her expression quickly shifted to amusement.

“I suppose it is a bit ironic,” she giggled as she weaved in the final flower. “Let’s just say, I now have a wealth of knowledge when it comes to thick-headed men. And I’ve learned my old tactics don’t always reap the best results.”

Hilda held up her completed crown and rotated it around, appraising. “You’ve always been one to speak your mind. Why the hold up with this?”

Lysithea stiffened and the blush grew on her cheeks. “R-romance is something…I’m unfamiliar with. I never saw any positive prospects in entertaining it before now.”

“Well now you have all the time in the world!” Hilda bubbled, smiling broadly. “And believe me, all this nervous energy is going to be completely worth it when he reciprocates. You’re going to be so giddy and happy, you’ll wonder why you ever hesitated.”

She set the garland aside on the small table near her perch, right beside their half-drunken cups of tea and a plate nearly barren of the cookies that once filled it.

Under Lysithea’s persistent tugs, the knot in her thread finally released. “I hope you’re right,” she muttered as she pierced the needle through the fabric once again, beginning the careful process to secure the petal tube to the partial rose.

Hilda rolled her eyes. She stood, stretching her arms high above her head before nabbing the last of the pastries from the plate. Hilda missed Lysithea’s glare as she sauntered past the bed on way to the grand closet, happily nibbling as she went. Upon arrival, she immediately began perusing through the many elegant outfits.

“Chin up, Lysithea!” she chirped. “I’m positive Linhardt is all ready head-over heels for you! There’s no other explanation to why he worked so hard to remove your Crests. This _is_ Linhardt, after all.”

Hilda pulled out a dress from the closet, scrutinized it momentarily, and then returned it to the rack with a shake of her head. She pushed a few more dresses aside, delving deeper.

“Perhaps I was just a fascinating research subject,” Lysithea suggested, doubtful.

Hilda turned back to the bed with an incredulous expression.

“Even _Caspar_ noticed how much he frets over you.”

Lysithea avoided Hilda’s gaze by fixating on her sewing. “While a tad apathetic and often unaware of how aggravating his relentless search for knowledge can be, Linhardt’s not heartless. I can’t say for certain that he helped me because of...a deeper sentiment than friendship. Though, one time he did mention...” She bit her lip, nerves tumbling around ferociously. Quickly, she dismissed the topic. “Oh, never mind!”

Once, Linhardt had mentioned he wanted to become _family_. Yet that was so long ago now and the topic had never been continued. Did he mean what she assumed, and if so, did he still feel that way?

Hilda plucked another dress from the closet and held it flush against her chest, twisting to see the drape on her body.

“Not to worry, my darling. After I’m done with you, you’ll be irresistible! If he had any doubts, they’ll be shoved right out of his overstuffed head as soon as you beam that gorgeous smile!”

Despite herself, a shy, amused grin graced Lysithea’s lips.

“I absolutely guarantee it,” Hilda continued, placing the dress carefully on the vanity chair. “During tonight’s festival you two will be dancing and laughing and ooo!—maybe even stealing kisses! And if for some reason he isn’t completely, devastatingly wooed, I’ll make sure Caspar knocks some sense into him!”

* * *

“Ah, come on, Linhardt!” Caspar’s boisterous voice boomed, echoing from the bottom of the stairwell as Lysithea and Hilda descended the steps, arms laced together due to Lysithea’s lingering fragility. “You’ve gotta come with us! There’s gonna be a bunch of food and dancing! It’s gonna be a ton of fun!”

“Certainly not,” Linhardt drawled, voice carrying much softer. “Spending the day with you has been just as exhaustive as nostalgic. I plan on fully enjoying the quiet left in your absence and partaking in a much needed nap.”

“Seriously? Nap later! We haven’t seen each other in years. We gotta make the most of it!”

“Has the last week not been satisfactory? I’d say we’ve made enough memories to last a few more years. I, for one, can’t keep up with your enthusiasm.”

Lysithea’s grip tightened on Hilda’s arm. During the last few days she had predicted and analyzed so many possible scenarios that could play out when she gifted her garland crown to Linhardt, and now one of the negative outcomes crashed into reality. If he didn’t want to attend the Garland Moon festival held in Ordelia village then the make-up adorning her cheeks and lips, the perfume scenting her neck and wrists, the pins holding up her long locks, and the exquisite dress draping her body were just as pointless as the garland clutched in her right hand.

Hilda squeezed back and smiled reassuringly. Although it did not abate her fears, it encouraged Lysithea to raise her chin higher.

Their heels clicked down the wooden stairs, the sound bouncing off the walls and announcing their entrance. Linhardt lolled his head in their direction, cutting off Caspar’s protests with his lack of attention. Frustrated, Caspar followed Linhardt’s gaze up the stairs. When he noticed the two women a broad grin immediately replaced his scowl.

“There’s my girl!” he crowed. “You look amazing, Hilda!”

“Ah, you’re too sweet!” Hilda cooed back. A besotted smile spread across her lips, but she quickly turned her attention to Lysithea. “Though, I’m not sure I deserve such a compliment when Lysithea’s completely outshining me with her beauty and grace. She looks simply radiant, don’t you two agree?”

Lysithea gawked at her, turning completely crimson. She should have predicted such a ploy from Hilda.

Caspar agreed readily, “Sure, you both look great!”

Although it was gratifying to hear the compliment, Caspar’s praise was not who’s Lysithea sought. She and Hilda descended a few more steps while Linhardt remained silent. Willing bravery, Lysithea fixed her gaze upon him, and the intensity of his stare instantly took her aback. Her breath caught. Never before had she seen him offer such a look of fascination and curiosity towards another living human. Certainly, such an expression was solely dedicated to his Crest research.

Yet, now it was directed at her.

“Indeed, beautiful,” he said at last, as if roused from a dream.

Before the heat could yet again completely rise on her cheeks, Lysithea’s knee gave out under her. She tumbled down the last two steps, dragging a shocked Hilda along with her.

“Woah there!” Caspar bellowed as he scrambled to catch them. Unfortunately, he arrived after they were all ready a tangle of limbs and a clatter of groans. However, the inspection of their garlands prompted a quick recovery. Luckily, no harm befall Lysithea’s and a glance toward Hilda promised the same to hers.

“You guys okay?” Caspar asked, hunching down with an outstretched hand.

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m not an infant,” Lysithea dismissed with more bite than she intended. Caspar recoiled back, surprised or wounded Lysithea couldn’t quite discern. Her voice softened, a bit self-conscious. “Sorry. I’m just a little…woozy. I can get up by myself.”

“Hey, no problem. You’re tough, I get it.”

Hilda adjusted Lysithea’s bangs and removed a smear of lipstick from under her bottom lip before she accepted Caspar’s hand. Once he righted her, she eagerly buried herself in his chest, smiling ecstatically.

Just as Lysithea began to clamber to her feet, another hand dropped down in front of her.

“No harm in caution,” said Linhardt, much to her shock. “Take my arm, won’t you?”

Lysithea almost froze, but she managed to place her hand in his. Heaving a groan, he pulled her to her feet. She thanked him bashfully and adjusted her dress to avoid his eyes, simultaneously hiding her doubtlessly scarlet cheeks.

From Caspar’s arms, Hilda smirked, which proved to only further incite Lysithea’s embarrassment. Hilda pulled away from the embrace and cradled the garland crown in both hands.

“My dear Caspar, will you give me your heart tonight and escort me to the garland festival?” she asked, an odd quality to her tone, as if the words were a performance—as if directing Lysithea by example.

Lysithea bit back her vexation. Even if this was all foreign, she hardly needed a demonstration of how to proclaim her feelings.

Caspar raised a brow, undoubtedly catching the strange intonation. He was usually pretty sharp when it came to honesty.

Confusion laced in his voice, he replied, “Yeah, of course I’ll do that, Hilda, but you know you have my heart everyday, right?”

Hilda simpered and pecked his cheek. “Yes, I know, silly. And everyone there will know how lucky I am for snagging such a strong and handsome lover.”

She arched up on her toes and placed the garland on his head. Afterwards, she brushed a few strands of hair from his left eye, lingering her hand on his cheek.

He smiled affectionately. “I’m the lucky one,” he said in a soft, sincere voice, urging Hilda to beam and snuggle back into his arms.

Although Lysithea did not need a demonstration, Hilda and Caspar certainly made the whole process seem effortless. During the exchange, Lysithea spied shy glances towards Linhardt, who watched the display with minimal interest, boredom glazing over his eyes. Though, she was certain his gaze flitted in her direction a few times.

Once their two friends transitioned into nauseating lovey-dovey giggles and chuckles, Lysithea took a deep breath and summoned her courage.

“Linhardt,” she called, voice shaking but not failing to grab his full attention. She held out the garland made of cloth roses and his drowsy stare fell upon it. The craft wasn’t perfect, but with Hilda’s aid she had managed to bring it to a satisfactory level. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Because of you, possibilities I never dreamt of are now before me.”

Linhardt smiled, lips quirking up only a minimal amount. “But of course, Lysithea. Not only was it my pleasure but the whole process was quite a fascinating endeavor. I sincerely hope my hypothesis was correct and you can look forward to a bountiful life.”

Nervously, she shifted her feet, lifting her heels up in repetition. “Speaking of, um, possibilities and a bountiful life, what do you intend to do now? You’re no longer obligated to waste your time here.”

“Well, if you’re hoping to get rid of me, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I do plan to stay here a while longer. A _much_ while longer. After all, I still have my research to finalize and publish. It’s going to be quite the exhaustive ordeal to make sense of all my ramblings and organize them into coherent thought. Not exactly my favorite aspect of the process, but I’m certain I’ll get through it. Albeit, begrudgingly.”

Lysithea’s hopes rose slightly. She wet her lips. “Perhaps I could help you with that. I’m well adept at such tasks, and I’d like to repay my debt.”

He shook his head and waved a hand. “Please, Lysithea, the knowledge that you will continue to smile is reward enough. Though…” The tone of his voice turned a little devious. “I suppose I would have no objection if my wife was to aid me.”

Lysithea’s heart skipped a beat.

She stammered, “W-wife?”

“Of course, I’ve always intended us to become family. I’m certain I said so before. Did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget!” she exclaimed, indignant despite her fumbling. “I just…wasn’t sure if you were serious or what was your true connotation!”

Linhardt smiled that weak, weary smile she was ever so fond of. “Well, I do hope it is explicitly clear now. Though, there’s hardly any need to worry about marriage at the moment. The turmoils caused by war and Crests are behind us now, or at least, I dearly hope. I propose we take advantage of this peace and enjoy ourselves. Undoubtedly, the garland festival will build a strong foundation for such a life.”

Lysithea’s heart hammered incessantly loud in her chest as he crouched down, drawing so close she could feel his breath upon her cheek. He cast his attention to the flower crown clutched in her hands.

“How fitting if not a bit poignant,” he mused. “Flowers are breathtaking while they bloom, but I do hope that what we share will blossom for many decades hence. I confess, I am completely enraptured by you, Lysithea, and it’s not just because of your Crests. Although that did spur my initial fascination.” He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear before settling his hand upon her cheek. It was warm, gentle, and smooth, and lost in his eyes, Lysithea didn’t want him ever to let go. “Please know that whether your life is long or short, my devotion to you is everlasting.”

Suddenly, nothing but Linhardt mattered anymore. Not the pain she’d endured for years nor the nightmares pressured by an impending clock. Hilda was right. She felt giddy and a burst of true happiness that no sweet could compete against.

She smiled and quietly whispered, “I love you, Linhardt.”

He released a relieved sigh. “I had surmised so, but it is a great relief to hear you say it.”

Giggling, she gingerly placed the garland atop his head, fingers tangling in his luscious emerald tresses. She ran her fingers through them, brushing lightly against his cheek and shoulder.

Linhardt smiled warmly and laced his arm through hers. Slowly, he turned, mindful of her constitution, and guided her to the door. Lysithea’s heart raced and she wished this moment could slow. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that there was never enough time. Moments like this had to be savored, just like the delectable taste of cake.

“Why in Fodlan are you two dawdling?” Linhardt asked a gaping Caspar and Hilda.

“Uh,” Caspar stammered, for once at a lost for words. “Not tired anymore?”

“Oh, dreadfully so, but you did prattle on about the quality of food. I’m certain indulging a bit will replenish my energy.” He turned to Lysithea, fondness adorning his expression. “I trust you will find us something favorable? Something sweet perhaps?”

Lysithea leaned her head on his shoulder, grinning like the love-struck fool that she was. She giggled, “Of course! Scouting out sweets is my speciality!”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/roxyryoko)!


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